Page 6 of Always

Guys and Dolls?

Too sexist.

Thinking of the Art Deco building out her window, Anika said, “What about a Great Gatsby theme?”

“Hmm,” Gwen mused. “It’s not completely original.”

“But it would be gorgeous,” Hannah admitted.

They all looked at Calvin, who gave a sullen shrug. He was annoyed that no one had taken his Cowboy theme seriously.

“I still think if it was a very cool, very urban cowboy style...”

“No!” Hannah shouted. “Great Gatsby it is.”

Later that afternoon, Calvin retaliated by tagging Hannah in a highly unflattering photo from the office Christmas party. Anika was too pleased to have settled on a theme to care about their petty squabbling. She always felt better when a plan was decided so she could launch herself into the work.

She forwarded the details of their plan to Aunt Molly via email.

“I am a little concerned how we’re going to cover the up-front expenses,” she wrote. “We’re short on funds at the moment.”

She was surprised when Aunt Molly emailed back only a few hours later—her aunt was far from glued to her computer.

My dearest favorite niece (but don’t tell Stella), it read,Don’t worry your darling self one bit about the money - I have fantastic news. I’ve been spending time with Mr. Doyle-

“I bet you have,” Anika chuckled to herself.

And I’ve been telling him all about your mother’s charity.

Anika blessed her aunt for still calling it that—sometimes it seemed like Bennet and Stella would do anything to avoid mentioning Eleanor.

He was very impressed with the whole thing, and he’s agreed to make a sizable donation. Best of all, he says he has a friend, a younger fellow he used to work with. I think he was something of a mentor to him. Anyway, he says this young man is coming to New York, next week actually, and he feels certain that he would also like to help. This wunderkind just sold his company, and he’s flush with cash. What do you think of that, for once your old aunt is actually fulfilling her duties as head of fundraising! I’ll send you the details when I have them. Much love.

As happy as she was about the donation, Anika felt even more pleased that Aunt Molly, after many years of pickiness, seemed to have found someone worth “spending time with.”

“What do you know?” Anika said aloud. “Perhaps it’s never too late for love.”

* * *

4

The following week proved Mr. Doyle’s affection for Aunt Molly—a sizable donation was indeed deposited to the Red Line account, and Anika was free to begin making plans for the gala in earnest.

Her first step was to book the venue. The Chatway might have been perfect: with its 1930s decor, they would hardly have to decorate. But unfortunately its largest room held only 120 guests, less than half as many as they hoped to attract. Tavern on the Green was lovely, but Anika couldn’t handle the uncertainty of the weather for an outdoor event. At last she settled on the Angel Orensanz Foundation for the Arts. It had the grandiosity Gwen craved, the open space they needed, and it fell within their budget.

Calvin—who was, as he reminded them once more, an atheist—did not appreciate its origins as a synagogue, but he consoled himself by saying that “Jews were better than Christians at least.”

As was so apt to happen, Anika’s success at work had its unpleasant counterbalance in her father and sister’s obnoxiousness at home. She arrived home on Friday to find the apartment a complete mess, despite the presence of Danita, their housekeeper. Both Danita and Stella were out on the balcony, Danita trying to operate Stella’s phone to her boss’s specifications.

Stella was sprawled out on a patio chair in what could charitably be called a bikini—it comprised six square inches of material on artfully engineered strings.

“No, no, no!” Stella cried, checking Danita’s photos. “I don’t want a picture of the cat. I want you to take a flattering picture of me thatseemsto be a picture of the cat. The point is to show the eight hundred hours I’ve spent in spin class this year—do I have to spell it out for you? But it can’t be gratuitous. And make sure the flowers are in the frame too.”

Anika took the phone from Danita, mouthing “sorry” as Danita scurried back to the piles of discarded clothes and magazines in the living room.

“Don’t use Portrait Mode,” Stella said.

“I know, I know.” Anika waved off Stella’s instructions. In a few snaps, she had captured the gray Persian crouched on the tabletop, the bowl of lilies on the unfurled yoga mat, and the full globes of Stella’s bottom, artfully illuminated by the golden rays of the setting sun.

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